


pros & cons

by afewreelthoughts



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Modern Royalty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-21
Updated: 2020-03-21
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:07:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23238928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afewreelthoughts/pseuds/afewreelthoughts
Summary: "Shut up, Theon Greyjoy!" Robb shouts, knowing it is entirely unprincelike of him. "She is nothing like me."
Relationships: Robb Stark/Daenerys Targaryen
Comments: 4
Kudos: 60
Collections: ASOIAF Rarepair Week





	pros & cons

**Author's Note:**

> Rare Pair Week 2020: March 21 - Day 7 prompt fill: robb x dany - modern royalty, arranged marriage au
> 
> I own nothing and make no money from this. Everything belongs to George R.R. Martin.

"Shut up, Theon Greyjoy!" Robb shouts, knowing it is entirely unprincelike of him. His hands are fists, and he just barely stops himself from kicking the finely-carved chair he should be sitting in. "She is nothing like me." 

Theon holds his hands out like two sides of a scale. "Weird pet, weird pet." One hand rises, then the other. "Cares a lot about her subjects, cares a lot about his subjects; has a bad temper..." Theon raises an eyebrow.

Robb narrows his eyes. "You have a bad temper." 

Theon kicks his legs over the side of his armchair in the parlor of Riverrun.

"I don't object to her specifically," Robb says, trying to hedge his bets, trying to get Theon to hear him, because he realizes he sounds like a child. "I object to the fact that I'm being married off." 

"Cause you thought that would never happen?"

 _Yes,_ he thinks, _I did._

"When things fell through with Roslin, I guess I wondered if..."

"Your royal mother would let you marry whoever you wanted?"

Robb scuffs his shoe against the carpet. "I thought they might give me more time. Maybe I'd choose someone... suitable."

Theon sighs. "Oh, Robb, you and I both know you don't actually want to do suitable things." 

"But I have to," Robb says, his stomach sinking as his childish rage clears, and nothing has changed. 

"That's not the same thing."

"No, it really isn't." Robb sinks into the chair across from Theon and stares up at the gilded ceiling. 

"She's really not so bad, when you think about it," Theon says.

_Easy for him to say. He's not being married off._

"Tell me what's so great about her," Robb says and closes his eyes. 

"Well... she's leading all by herself, she always does a great job when the press gives her hell for being young and a woman..."

"Like you care about that."

"She's hot, sue me." 

"You're jealous of my hot, suitable fiancee?" 

"But she's _really_ hot!" 

When Robb looks up, Theon looks so earnestly wistful, Robb can't help but smile.

"I guess I never thought about her that way. She always looks so stiff and formal on television. Always the same makeup, the same braids." Robb frowns. "What are the braids about, anyway? I thought the Dothraki used to braid their hair when they won battles."

"I think the idea is that getting recognition for Dothraki arts and culture in Essos was a kind of battle." 

Robb rolls his eyes. "Is she even Dothraki?"

"Her late husband was. Her hot friends are."

"Do you want me to marry Daenerys Targaryen so you can hook up with her hot friends?"

"Of course not! It would be much easier for me to hook up with them _before_ you marry her."

Robb feels part comforted, part exhausted by the endless cheer of his best friend, and he reaches for one more reason. 

"She's just always putting on a show."

"So are all of us, she's just better at it than you are."

 _I'm tired of being made to grow up so fast._ But Robb can't say that. 

***

Daenerys Targaryen meets him at the steps in front of the castle at Riverrun, in a shockingly blue gown with a full skirt, tailored so close to fit her that the bodice looks like a second skin. Her hair is white, her skin tanned from so much time spent in Vaes Dothrak. A golden tiara winks in the sun from where it's nestled in her thick thick braids. When she waves to the crowds, they cheer for her, and when they cheer for her, her lips quirk up in a sly smile. 

_Arrogant,_ Robb thinks. 

When she turns to face him, he stares, not because she's hot, though she is, or that she's not what he expected... but that's she's looking him directly in the eyes.

"Aren't you going to welcome me?" she says. 

He bows his head. "Welcome to Riverrun, Your Majesty."

"Thank you, Your Majesty." 

That sly smile again. 

He straightens his shoulders. He's much taller than her - mostly because she's abnormally dainty - but that doesn't seem to phase her. He extends an arm to her, and she takes it. 

"I look forward to learning more about your home," she says, following him into the castle. "This is the farthest north, I've ever been." 

"Actually, this place is my mother's home. I was raised at Winterfell," Robb says. His eyes dart towards hers, hoping to have caught her out in an embarrassing flub. 

"Then I look forward to learning about all the places you've called home." 

"I've had occasion to travel," he says, hating that his father's death is lumped in with that _occasion._

"I know a thing or two about that," she says. 

He doesn't know what to say to that. She's traveled more places than he has, with less choice in the matter. But they have tall marble staircases to climb, so he searches for something to say. "Do you have a favorite place that you've lived?"

She looks contemplative and holds on tighter to his arm, balancing the weight of her skirts in her other hand. "The Dothraki Sea is beautiful. It's hard to capture in photos, just waves and waves of grass, the way they look like water when the wind hits them." They come to a landing and turn a corner. "I grew up in a house with a red door and a lemon tree in the back yard, but I was too young to remember anything more about it."

 _That's not a specific place,_ he thinks. _Lots of houses have red doors._

"Has Winterfell always been your home?"

"As long as I can remember. But right now, the people need me in the Riverlands."

That _need_ was always a nebulous thing, tied down by data and statistics and polls that Robb never quite understood. But the Riverlands had had it rough lately. So he supposed that was reason enough.

"I hope I can offer some help," she says, "for whatever the people need in the Riverlands."

At the top of the marble stairs, they emerge onto a balcony overlooking not just Riverrun, but the fields beyond, where people have camped out to see them. Tiny flags with Targaryen and Stark colors wave for them, and Robb waves back. 

"They really love you, don't they?" Daenerys says, waving stiffly beside him.

"They have to make do with me." _My father would have been better,_ Robb thinks, _in times like this,_ not wanting to acknowledge things like that in front of everyone, with a stranger on his arm.

She squeezes his hand. "I think you'll do just fine."

It's arrogant, he tells himself, to talk down to him like that, but her eyes are kind, and in that moment it's hard for Robb to remember what he thought was so awful about her just a few minutes ago.


End file.
